


The Exchange

by deborah_judge



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, New Caprica, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deborah_judge/pseuds/deborah_judge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On New Caprica, Leoben offers a deal to Kara: she can kill him if she'll let him frak her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Exchange

They'd been playing cat-and-mouse through three deaths. She'd kill him when he's not looking, almost like a game. So it's a new thing when he sits down opposite her with his usual exasperating show of patience offers to let him kill her, however and whatever way. It can take as long as she wants, he says, and she can use whatever implements there are in the house.

"What's the catch?" she asks.

He smiles beatifically. "The deal is, you agree to frak me. Body for body. Touch for touch. My desire for yours."

She gets up. It's not worth an answer. It's not like killing him would make him let her go.

At night she dreams of him in her, and it's bliss and ecstasy and fear. He takes her against the wall, she rides him in the bathtub. There's no end to it. She wakes with the taste of vomit in her mouth.

"Do you remember my offer?" Leoben asks a week later. "Frak you," she says immediately, and he smiles.

As the weeks pass endlessly the dreams don't stop. It's just biology, she tells herself, the smell of a man (well, something that looks like a man) when she hasn't had one inside her in months. Last time she frakked someone other than her husband was when that guy whose name she didn't remember lost at cards and didn't have any money and offered sex instead. He was cute. It was fun. It was better than this.

"I want to see you dead," she says, after the knife she aims at his back misses completely when he swerves. Maybe he'd been humoring her those last three times.

"And you know what I want," he said. "An exchange."

She's humiliated, there's no one coming for her, all she's got here is him. The thought of touching him nauseates her. "Deal," she says. Without warning, she punches him in the neck. Then she hits him hard across the face, sending him reeling. This isn't going to be on his terms. Another kick lands him on his side, next to the staircase, breathing hard. It only takes a moment to grab the knife that had been behind him on the table. She kneels over him. "Like this," she says.

He doesn't move as she cuts strips off his shirt, and his eyes never leave hers. Her eyes linger on his exposed chest and she pushes the point of her knife just below his nipple. A tiny drop of blood forms around it. "Does this hurt?" she asks. He doesn't bother to answer. She pushes harder, with the point just under the skin. She wants to make this last. "Does it?" she says. "Say something."

"I love you," he says.

Frak it. She drops the knife and ties his hands with the strips of his shirt to the rail of the staircase at what should be an uncomfortable angle. "This isn't necessary," he says. "I'm not going to move."

"Good," she says. "Don't." She pulls the cloth tighter.

She starts with punches. They're easy, and she knows they're not going to kill him. Two to the jaw, one to the forehead three in each eye. A kick in the groin just to remind him it's not his turn yet. More punches. The bruises around his eyes are purpling nicely, and his face is finally showing evidence of pain.

"Still love me?" she asks, then kicks him in the groin again hard enough to wind him.

"Yes," he breathes.

She rips her knife across his chest, making a nice red streak across his body. It looks good on him. Then she cuts lower, down across his belly. Then up his arm. She's got to be careful, he's bleeding a lot and she doesn't want him to die too soon. She cuts down the seam of his pants, exposing him, then traces patterns around his sensitive skin. He'll remember this when he's frakking her, she thinks, that this is what she did to him first.

His face is contorted in agony. He's beautiful that way. She makes one last long stroke, from his groin to his neck, bathing him in red as he bleeds out his life. It won't be long. But they'll do this again, she's certain of it. She puts her head on his chest to feel his blood on her cheek. Everything feels light around her. He's helpless. He's going to die. His blood is slick and sticky and warm. "That thing you want to do," she says, "we can do it, when you come back. It's okay."

"We will," he says. His hands are in her hair. Of course those ties wouldn't hold him, not even dying. His touch feels good. "When you're ready." She picks up her head and stares at him. He smiles. "It will be a long time from now. A very long time. When you are willing and eager and longing for me, without any fear or hesitation, when it's time for you to fulfill your destiny. I've seen it. I'm glad to know you want it too. One day."

And, damn. Her crotch throbs and she doesn't even know what game he's playing. For the first time in weeks she thinks she's going to cry. "One day?" she asks.

He nods, smiling, at peace like in a madness or vision. It's time for him to die. She pushes the tip of the knife through his throat, then holds him as he thrashes and stills.

She keeps holding him after he's dead. She needs to shower. She needs to come. Instead, she just curls up on the sofa and dreams about Leoben loving her.


End file.
